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"Adieu!A Heart Warm fond Adieu"
It's Robert to one, and Rabbie to another,
But Robin was favored by Father and Mother.
Alloway, Ayrshire - it's the village o' birth,
In the land o' Scotland- just South of the Firth.
The ploughman poet- Burns by name
Is Scotland's Bard and weel worthy o' fame,
He gave the world poems and songs o' worth
That will last ever after we've gone from this earth.
He wrote verses of life, and songs of love
With poems of rivers, trees, and skies above,
And tales of a Woodlark, A Moor Hen, and Mouse
An Owl, Twa Dogs, and even a Louse.
The Scottish Dialect Poems, satires and verses,
Elegies, Epitaphs, and Graces
Address to a Haggis,- Toothache,-and the Deil
Tam o' Shanter, Scots Wha Hae, and Bannocks o'Bear Meal |
Ah! The love Songs of Burns will forever resound,
With no sweeter air, e'er to be found,
Like "My Luv is like a red red Rose, that's newly sprung in June,
Oh! My Love is like a melody , that's sweetly played in tune."
With a compliment to Jean his wife,
The one true Love in all his life
"There's not a bonie flower that springs
by fountain, shaw, or green
There's not a bonie bird that sings,
But minds me o' my Jean."
Auld Lang Syne is the toast of choice
As echoed round the world wi' fervor and voice,
"Then let us pray that come it may (as come it will for a' that)
That man to man the world o'er,
Shall brithers be for a' that."
His life was cut short- stopped in it's prime
No more are the blessings o' song or rhyme,
The young Poet did leave us, but forever his name,
Will rejoice with the best, and live eternally in fame.
Adieu to you, a heart-warm fond adieu,
You'll aye be missed by more than a few,
As we say good-bye to yin an' a'
Say - 'Here's to him, The Bard, that's far awa." |
